Checkmate
by Nuuhtella
Summary: Some of us are Pawns, some of us are queens. How we decide to use that power is our own choice. Morality or immorality, that is the question.


Written for the QLFC Season 5 - Round 13

Tutshill Tornados - Chaser 2

Prompt: Bishop - Write about a 'dark' character acting moral.

Optional Prompts:  
[1] Checkmate (word)  
[13] Strategy (word)  
[15] Chess: The game where a pawn can become a queen. - Unknown (quote) 

**Word Count:** 2,280

* * *

The stone chamber was shrouded in darkness, dimly lit by a few candles hanging on the wall. A large, round table sat in the middle of the room. It was filled with mounds of food and there was everything and anything that you could imagine. A group of nine men were seated around the table, enjoying the meal together. One of the men was clearly older than the others. He was extremely large and had a magnificent moustache that made him look very much like a Walrus. From first glance, you can see him as the jovial fellow that he is, and from the second you can see his clear thirst for importance and power. In fact, that was one of the reasons why he, Lord Voldemort, thought very highly of the man.

"Ah, boys," said Professor Slughorn. "What a joy it has been to teach you all. I can't quite believe that this will be our last slug club meeting altogether." He paused to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "Yes, it has been fantastic to know you all. I am sure that you will all go on to do great things." Slughorn picked up his glass and raised it towards them. "Here's to all of you, the future of this country!"

Everybody raised their glasses in response before draining their contents. Voldemort surveyed the room. Avery, the sandy-haired boy sitting across the table from him, caught his eye for a moment and winked. He smirked back rather coolly in response, though he wasn't sure that Avery noticed. This sort of thing would have to stop in due course.

"Tom!" Slughorn called. Voldemort winced at the sound of his discarded name. "You have yet to tell us what your plans are after you leave? Your classmates here have all mentioned their plans, and I expect yours to be rather impressive. The Ministry, perhaps? I have some good contacts there for you, m'boy. The head of the Auror office is an extremely good friend of mine."

"Actually, sir, I haven't quite yet decided where I am going," said Voldemort quietly.

"Well, you had best hurry up, young man. Wait any longer and your classmates here will beat you to all of the good opportunities! And we can't let that happen. It would be a travesty"

Voldemort chuckled. "I have no fear of that."

"No?"

"No. You see, I have big plans for myself. Plans that I am sure you will one day soon hear about. However, I feel the best way to attain my goals is to be cautious and move with impeccable stealth. It's all about the strategy, sir. And it's going to be exceptional."

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Slughorn began to chuckle.

"Oho! In that case, I shan't press you any further. It's clear that you know what you are doing, m'boy," said Slughorn.

"Thank you," said Voldemort.

"You'll go far, Tom. Mark my words."

~P~

"Tom! There you are. How did you get on with Miss Hepzibah this time? Is she finally willing to sell the goblin-made armour?"

The door snapped shut behind him and Voldemort shook the wetness from his coat. He looked up at the man walking towards him. It was his employer, Mr. Caractacus Burke. Burke was a slimy old fellow but he knew almost everybody and, even better, knew their secrets. He was a valuable asset. Or, he was.

"Unfortunately not, Mr. Burke. I do not believe there is any price at which she would sell."

"Oh, there's always a price, Tom. Everybody has a price."

"Yes, sir."

Voldemort didn't move and just stood staring at his employer.

"Is there something else?" said Burke.

"Actually, there is. I am afraid to say that I will be handing in my notice today."

"I see. Is there any particular reason for this?"

"None that comes to mind," he lied easily.

"I see."

~P~

Rain pounded heavily against the windows. It was a bleak night and the inside of the tavern was almost empty. Voldemort sat alone in the corner of the room, waiting out the storm and nursing a glass of red wine. The entire place was filled with Muggles and it was all he could do to resist the urge to kill them all. So far, he had been left alone which was how he preferred it. The barmaid tried to engage him in conversation at first but soon gave it up for which he was grateful. He had enough to occupy him without the shrill voice of that disgusting Muggle woman interrupting him every five minutes.

The door of the tavern suddenly swung open and a small, young woman bolted inside. She slammed the door shut behind her and ordered a drink before sitting at the table nearest to him in order to warm herself by the fire. She had long, white-blonde hair with eyes that were paler than the moon. For a Muggle, she was most certainly mesmerising. He finally caught her eye which caused the girl to walk over to him.

"Can I do something for you?"

"I'm sorry?" said Voldemort.

"Well, I'm wondering whether you need help with something. That is the only reason I can think of for you to be staring at me so intently."

Voldemort smirked. He had a knack for controlling people, especially women. This girl would be easy prey.

"Perhaps you'd like to join me?"

The girl looked taken aback but quickly smiled sweetly at him. He had her now.

"I'd rather eat my own vomit."

With that, the girl turned on her heel and walked over to the barmaid. They talked for a moment before the barmaid handed her a set of keys and the girl walked up the stairs without a second glance. He looked out of the window to see that the storm would not be passing quickly and, if he were honest, he was intrigued. Voldemort walked over to the bar.

"A room for one, please."

~P~

By the next day, the storm still hadn't let up. Voldemort thought he might leave and explore other options elsewhere but the Muggle girl truly intrigued him for some reason. He came downstairs to find her playing a game of chess with one of the other inhabitants.

"Checkmate!" she declared to the groans of her opponent. "I win again."

"Well done, Miss," said the landlord.

"Don't worry, boys. No-one can beat me."

The girl winked at them. Voldemort moved forwards rather quietly.

"Mind if I give it a try?" he said.

The entire room turned to stare at him, but he wasn't bothered with them. The girl stared at him for a few moments before gesturing to the seat opposite her. They began to play.

"So," said Voldemort. "What's your name?"

"Rosalie. You?"

He contemplated how to answer while pretending to dither over whether to move his bishop or knight.

"Tom."

"How ordinary," said Rosalie.

"Thanks," he grimaced.

They played in silence for a few minutes.

"So," she said. "What brings you here?"

"Personal business."

"I see."

"You aren't well versed in the art of conversation."

Rosalie smirked.

"Perhaps not. You see, when I play I play to win. Chatting does not help me do that."

"If you have to employ such tricks to win, can you really say that you have won?" he said.

"Winning is winning. It doesn't matter how you do it. Furthermore, I don't think being silent counts as a trick. It's just creating an environment which helps one to focus better," said Rosalie.

"So," said Voldemort as he took another of her white pieces. "You wouldn't disapprove of somebody say using others as long as they win?"

"Of course not. It makes good sense to do that. However, you have to make sure that those you use do not then beat you in a power struggle. Keep them in line."

"I doubt they could, even if they wanted to," he said.

"Be careful. This is chess: The game where a pawn can become a queen. Don't forget it."

With that, she placed her final piece.

"Checkmate."

Voldemort sat back in his chair, looking at the board in disbelief. He had lost to a Muggle. Rosalie sat across from him with a knowing smirk on her face and began to reset the board. It was then that the door of the tavern was flung open and in ran a rather hysterical, middle-aged woman.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

"What is it, Edith?" said the barmaid.

"It's Reggie, he's missing."

"Don't worry yourself, we'll find him. Pete'll go and have a look for him. He'll be found right as rain, you'll see!"

The woman sunk into the chair and began to sob. Voldemort had had enough of the noise and was just about to slip away to his room.

"Let's all go and look for him," said Rosalie. "Surely more of us looking would provide a better result?"

"Oh I couldn't ask you to do that," said Edith.

"Come on, everybody. Let's go."

The inhabitants of the pub all donned their coats and caps before heading out of the door. Only Voldemort and Rosalie remained behind and she looked at him inquisitively.

"Aren't you coming?"

Voldemort thought for a moment. To help a Muggle in any way seemed odd. But, not to help could cause alarm and he truly did not need the Ministry on his tail. He quickly pulled on his coat and followed Rosalie out of the door. Together they set off into the woods, calling the missing person's name.

The rain was falling thick and heavy and soon they couldn't see even a few inches in front of their face. He thought about casting the impervious charm on himself but didn't think he could manage it without Rosalie noticing.

"D'you see anything?"

"No," said Voldemort.

"This is useless!"

"Most likely."

Rosalie glared at him.

"Well I don't see you coming up with any suggestions," she snapped.

With one last angry glance, she stormed away from him and he followed, hot on her heels. Voldemort wasn't sure as to why he was continuing to follow her. It was wet and miserable and he had no interest in the outcome of the venture. And yet, here he was. Rosalie suddenly stopped in her tracks.

"Did you hear that?" she said.

Voldemort listened intently and could make out a sort of whimpering. He made the decision to delve into the mind of the creature and realised that it was the person they had been looking for. On the pretence of following the sound, he led Rosalie to where the boy was. They were standing at the edge of the cliff and a few feet below was the figure of a small boy hanging on for dear life.

"Oh my God!" said Rosalie. "We've got to help him!"

"Alright," said Voldemort. "I'll alert the others."

"There's no time for that. We've got to do something now!"

With a sigh, Voldemort took off his coat, cap, and scarf and handed them to Rosalie. He wasn't quite sure why he was helping the Muggle boy, he just felt compelled to do so. Rosalie was stood above, her face white with fear. Finally, he reached the boy and pulled him into his arms. Discreetly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and muttered a spell to help them safely to the top. As they reached the edge, Rosalie grabbed Reggie and pulled him to safety. It was then that Edith came barrelling onto the scene and clutched her son to her chest.

"Thank you," Edith choked. "Thank you for my son."

Voldemort didn't know what to say to that and merely nodded in response. The group made their way back to the tavern. As they walked the Muggles continued to pat him on the back and praise him. If they had been anyone of importance he may have been flattered. Rosalie was walking slightly ahead of the group but kept glancing back at him. For some reason, he found himself looking forward to each stolen glance and couldn't take his eyes off her.

Soon they were back in the pub and everybody had insisted on buying him a drink. Finally, they left him alone and he was free to sit alone in his corner once again. It wasn't long until he heard the scraping of the chair opposite him and he turned to find that Rosalie had joined him.

"That was rather brave of you," she said.

"Thanks."

"I am surprised that you had it in you. I didn't think you were the compassionate type."

"I'm not."

"I think you are. You proved that today."

Voldemort smirked. "You have no idea."

"Perhaps not," said Rosalie. "But I'd like to remedy that by getting to know you, Tom."

He blinked at her, not quite comprehending. To have a Muggle so forward with him was not something he enjoyed, no matter how beautiful she was. At least, that's what he had thought. He found himself rather enraptured by her.

"Oh look, the rain is stopping," she said.

Voldemort glanced out of the window before turning his icy stare onto Rosalie. He stood up and headed towards the stairs. He heard Rosalie follow him and turned when she called his name.

"Are you leaving?" she asked. "I was hoping we would get to know one another."

Voldemort smiled coolly at her.

"Now, why on earth would I want to do that?"

Without another word, he swept up the staircase to grab his things before leaving the Muggle-ridden pub. He may have saved one of them but he would never become one.


End file.
